Forging the Road Back Home
by MidnightAuro
Summary: Lady Aeducan was not going to be stopped, or held up from her quest to reunite with Gorim. Not by a battle, not by darkspawn, and not by a commoner with aspirations to what could finally be hers. Bit of fluff, breaks from expected events in Origins.


_Authors notes: This is my first real posting on FF, and a recent return to actually writing things. I've been RPing for a while, and completely neglecting writing! I couldn't stand the horrificly depressing end to the F!Aeducan and Gorim story, so I wrote something else. I'm not sure exactly if I want to finish it yet, since it will go off in MidnightLand territory. Might end up in a one off smut ending. Blame the ADD, off we go! Mind, I couldn't even figure out how people do authors notes, so, baby steps._

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How she wished Gorim had been able to sneak into the Deep Roads, to be anywhere near her. She hadn't even been able to loot a pair of boots off the darkspawn she'd been cutting down to find the Grey Wardens he'd mentioned. The leather slippers did little to help against the jagged rocks, and assorted bones, but they were better than absolutely nothing she guessed, until she strode up to the men she was looking for. Shock and confusion in their faces took attention away from her shabby cobbled together armor set and lack of boots at least.

"Lady Aeducan! What are you doing down here by yourself?"

The words cut deeply, though they weren't given that meaning by the man who spoke them. She made pleasantries enough to not be asked further questions, following along to Ostagar quietly, reflectively. She looked along the roads, wishing they'd take the same path as him, with no luck.

And then they'd all died. Betrayed. That word seemed to be following Sereda around lately. More than she could have thought so. Alistair spent more than enough nights with night terrors, crying when she was pretending to sleep. She kept her own tears to herself, as much as she'd liked the humans that aided her, and Duncan, they'd not been with her long enough to keep a lasting pain. Not like the one she looked for in so many faces.

Lothering was a speed bump in her quest to reach Denerim, and a foreboding warning of the journey ahead. Days after they'd made camp along the road, a small group of merchants over-cheerfully informed them of the obliteration of the village. Pangs of worried drained her as they continued the march to the city. Alistair had tried to warn her against going so soon, with the opinion so highly stacked against them. But what could they do? Lock her in the Deep Roads again? She somehow doubted that highly, as it seemed to be they were also desired. "Save us!" was as prominent as "King slayers!" to those that found evidence of their standing.

The sun rose slowly over the city as they approached, quietly slipping in with other refugees, the tattered prison clothes certainly doing a better job as a costume than their previous job. She'd changed, once they were out of sight of the guards in a small inn, finally leaving her sole companion to his rest for a few hours. She slowly wandered the market district, finding a bread vendor, and making small talk as if she was a normal, surface loving, sky falling into Dwarf. Her eyes found a familiar body across the market, walking with a woman and another, older man. He had made it! By the stone, he was alive, and right over there! He disappeared though, around a corner, having never looked behind him, and she took in breath again, as if she'd never felt it before. She took to nibbling at her muffin while walking, searching for a tavern nearby to settle into for a while to think.

She hadn't been able to take a single sip of the pint she'd ordered when they crossed again. He was still with the older man, though the woman was nowhere to be found in the tavern. As they took a table, their eyes met, fused together as if they could take up mind reading. He smiled at her, that look he had when he was worried too much, and not drunk enough. He sat down finally, eyes only drifting from her long enough to reply to conversation being lobbed his direction, something about him seeming unusually conflicted. After a long while, the old man got up and flung his hands in the air, muttering, and grumpy, exiting the bar with a single insult hurled on the way out. Gorim went back to dead on staring at her, as if seeing a ghost. She downed the rest of her ale, and stood up, smiling like mad and crossing the room to him.

"Seeing a ghost are you?"

"You... You're alive? How did you... survive the battle? What happened to you?"

"I told you I wasn't planning on dying."

The light filtering in turned to the long rays of sunset before she noticed time was passing. She pushed the last glass away from her and set a coin purse on the table.

"You know, you could come with me. I don't think a bum leg would be able to stop the likes of you."

He paused for a long while, looking her over, starting to speak and then closing his mouth, before he nodded.

"You'll be at the inn across the market?"

She nodded and turned her thumb towards the door. "You coming?"

A deep sigh rumbled in his chest. "I'll come to you by the morning my Lady."

She smiled brightly, truthfully for the first time since before the feast. She left him with a forceful hug that he chuckled heavily and returned. Out into the night air, and down a back alley she was stopped by a small group of dwarves, three of them in armor and the old man.

"You have no right to swoop in here and ruin a proper man!"

She scowled a bit. "Swooping... is bad." Leaving it to drip with sarcasm she drew her blade. "I suggest you all make it an early, and quiet night."

Her voice was deep and commanding, and the younger ones looked amongst themselves before shaking their heads and scattering. The older man shook his head and growled a bit.

"I will not see you meddle further, I suggest you give up."

He followed the rest before she could retort, and the rest of her walk proved quieter. Alistair was near hysterics when she returned though, nearly knocking her over with an unexpected hug. She looked him over and shook her head.

"What is it with people and expecting me to die. I swear, by the stone, you lot can keep trying but I not going to fall over any time yet."

He whimpered like a lost puppy at her chiding. She sat in a chair across the room and muttered for a moment, thinking on explaining the reasoning for a new companion, and how much to fill in the blanks of her life. Alistair had asked no questions so far, seemingly happy to give her space, though he'd gotten that smitten look in his eyes, something she was not happy to return, or deal with.

She'd deal with it in the morning.


End file.
